


Bangs and Crashes

by Tish



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Cabin Fic, Frottage, Gen, Hand Jobs, M/M, Storm Porn, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 11:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are caught in a storm, but refuge is at hand.





	Bangs and Crashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elise_Madrid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Madrid/gifts).



> For the prompts: Silk sheets, candle light, storm of the century

It was the steadily increasing roar of the wind through the treetops high above that made Napoleon look up with trepidation. The sky had rapidly filled with ominous grey clouds as they trekked through the forest. A once sunny blue sky was now darkened in the few hours it took for them to complete their mission and emerge from the cave system into the open.

A sharp snapping sound came from behind them and Napoleon turned to see a branch start to tumble down a tree, softly thudding against the sides. Smaller branches came flying by overhead as he critically examined the surrounding trees. “We should quicken our pace, I don't fancy being hit by a branch that size.”

“If we keep on this track, we should hit the main road to town,” Illya replied as he checked a small map.

They hurried on, now and then looking up, ears keen to hear any tell-tale cracking sounds as the wind picked up. It subtly grew darker and a soft patting sound joined the rush of the wind.

Napoleon zipped up his jacket more, hunching it closer to his neck as they ran.

 

The increasing rain, combined with the downward slope of the forest impeded their progress as they dodged their way around the slippery undergrowth. By the time they reached a road, the sky was unleashing a torrential downpour, driven almost horizontal by the winds. A long and deep rumbling added to the terrible weather.

Napoleon looked back at the sound, just as a fork of lightning split the brooding dark sky in the distance.

Illya's counting was drowned out by another long rumble of thunder. “That one was almost three miles away.”

“And the storm's eye is getting closer,” Napoleon said as they started along the road, the rain driving at their hunched backs.

A bend in the road shielded them from the worst of the wind and rain, but they still kept an eye on the wildly shaking treetops as they went. As they walked downhill, the side of the road became sodden with fast running water, filling the ditches with muddy masses.

“According to the map, there's a river coming up,” Illya had to raise his voice over the roaring wind.

“I hope there's a sturdy bridge,” Napoleon shouted back. “I didn't bring my swimsuit.”

Napoleon's grin faded as they rounded another bend to see the surging river before them, overflowing the banks. The bridge was nowhere to be seen.

“Do you think it got washed away?” Napoleon asked.

“Or it's under all that,” Illya said as he checked the map again. “There's bound to be sunken trees, all sorts of debris underwater. No sense in trying to swim, we'll have to go back.”

Napoleon blanched at the thought of being trapped, helpless under the water and being dragged along by the current. He shuddered and started jogging back up the hill with Illya.

 

After a time, they passed the point they'd emerged from the forest and continued uphill. The rain and wind was pushing into their faces now, and they bent over slightly as they ran. The flashes of lightning were now near constant, and one roll of thunder continued into the next.

Illya paused and wiped away a stream of water from his face. “Looks like a clearing ahead.”

“A house, I hope!” Napoleon shouted back.

Just as they were about to move on, the world turned white and a tree crashed down just in front of them. There was a deafening roar of thunder and the acrid smell of burnt wood as they skidded to a stop.

Another bolt of lightning hit the ground further up the road, sending another tree crashing down. Illya jumped back as heavy branches slapped against his face.

Napoleon pulled him away and they ran to the clearing, their faces a picture of relief as they saw a cabin nestled in amongst the trees. Fist-sized hailstones started pelting them as they ran.

“Are you going to send the kitchen sink next?” Napoleon yelled at the sky.

A ground bolt smashed into a small well in the garden, just as they reached the porch. The tall, steep roof overhung it, giving them respite from the rain. Illya slumped against the wall as Napoleon peered in the window.

“Dark inside. Nobody home?” Napoleon said.

'There's a key in the door,” Illya pointed out as he turned the key and opened it.

 

They quickly moved inside and looked around. Napoleon checked the small alcove at the far end of the large room as Illya sat at the table. A large basket was set in the middle, filled with fruit, nuts and a bottle of champagne. He lifted the card.

“To the honeymoon couple. May your stay be peaceful and joyous,” he read out as Napoleon came back, carrying a large bowl of water and a bottle of antiseptic.

“You're bleeding,” Napoleon told him.

“I'm fine,” Illya brushed his wet face dismissively. He took the glass lid from a lantern and struck a match from the box next to it to light the wick. As he replaced the glass, his face was bathed in a soft orange glow, brightening to a gentle yellow-white light as he adjusted it.

“Yeah, you're fine. I hope the honeymooners are okay. Maybe they're stuck in the nearest town,” Napoleon said as he cleaned the grazes on Illya's face.

Illya nodded as another lighting bolt hit the ground, followed by a rumbling that echoed in the stone walls. “They're safer if they're in a car. Still. All those downed trees on the road.”

“Well, it looks like we're here for the night. I'll build the fire if you check out the food situation,” Napoleon said.

Illya stood in the alcove and inspected the shelves. Mostly tinned goods and a selection of fresh vegetables lined the shelves and he decided what would work best for dinner. A wood-burning oven stood next to the alcove and he ran an appreciative hand along the black iron surface before lighting it. He took a large cooking pot from the rack and filled it from the single cold water tap in the sink, quickly standing back as the water ran. When it was full enough, he quickly turned the tap off, then set it on the stove top to boil.

“Coffee first, albeit instant,” Illya said apologetically.

“Fine by me,” Napoleon said as he trotted down the steps from the platform bedroom area. He slid a hand around Illya's waist as he stood behind him. “The bed has silk sheets. I hope I don't start tossing and turning in my sleep, I might slide out of bed.”

Illya smirked. “You think you'll be getting any sleep tonight? Or maybe I should tie you to the bed.”

Napoleon snorted as he went into the small bathroom, returning with two fluffy, white bathrobes. “We should get out of these clothes and dry out by the fire.”

Illya followed with the coffee cups. “We're going to eat that poor couple's food, wear their house clothes, and sleep in their bed.”

“And it'll be _just_ right, Goldilocks,” Napoleon said as he brought over the coat stand and a dinner chair.

 

Illya pulled his jacket and black turtle-neck off and sat down to pull off his hiking boots, grimacing at the feel of the sodden socks as he tugged them off. His jeans quickly followed and he wrapped himself in the bathrobe, leaving his clothes in a pile on the chair.

Napoleon had neatly hung up his jacket and shirt, and quietly huffed as he folded his trousers over the chair back. Illya had settled down onto the rug and turned to see Napoleon neatly arranging Illya's clothes.

“Oh, you don't need to do that,” Illya said.

“Too late,” Napoleon said lightly as he pulled on his bathrobe and joined Illya and the coffee mugs.

 

The rain continued to pelt against the roof, interrupted by rumbles of thunder. Illya watched the dark sky outside and the silhouettes of the trees as lightning forked across above them.

Napoleon took some cushions from the settee behind them and nestled against them, smiling as Illya snuggled up closer beside him. He put an arm around Illya's waist and tilted his head so he could feel Illya's hair against his skin.

“Remember that time we were going to be parachuted in somewhere just in time to be caught in a storm? That pilot had nerves of steel,” Napoleon said with awe.

“And we huddled in a cave waiting for our contact to show,” Illya replied.

“Nestled in a bed of parachute silk, and a flash-lit dinner of ration packs. Delicious,” Napoleon said with a laugh. He looked up. “Now, we have silk sheets on a proper bed, some solid food for dinner, and aha!”

Illya watched as Napoleon took two old bottles serving as candlestick holders from the mantelpiece above the fire, then lit them. He arranged them on either side of the stonework surrounding the hearth.

Just as Napoleon was about to sit down, Illya sighed. “Since you reminded me about dinner, I'm starving.”

Napoleon reached out his hand and flicked his fingers at him. “Come on, then. Let's get cooking.”

 

Illya dipped a jug into the cooking pot and poured it into the bath dish, sluicing in some cold water as Napoleon dug out some vegetables from the pantry, along with a bottle of wine. He washed his hands and set out some knives to prepare them. “Some sort of casserole or pot roast. Either the guests were going to bring their own meat or they're vegetarians.” As he held up a large carrot, he caught the twinkle in Napoleon's eye and sighed. “You're going to make a rude joke, aren't you?”

“Far be it for me to make a joke about wanting you to taste my lovingly prepared sausage,” Napoleon said with a straight face.

“Has it slipped your mind that I'm holding a large knife?” Illya said, rolling his eyes.

“I'd prefer you were holding something else large,” Napoleon replied.

“Napoleon, get out of my kitchen, pour a drink and just sit there quietly, looking beautiful,” Illya said sternly as he waved a hand around the small area.

Napoleon chuckled as he opened the bottle. He turned around the settee and laid along it, letting his robe fall open to reveal he'd removed his boxer shorts somewhere along the way.

“I'm ignoring you,” Illya said as he worked, the knife sharply smacking the table top as he cut.

“Of course you are,” Napoleon answered nonchalantly.

 

Satisfied with the meal preparation, Illya critically examined the wine and poured some into the pot before it went into the oven. He poured some into a glass and sipped it, watching Napoleon carefully.

Napoleon raised his glass. “Chin chin.”

“Bottom's up,” replied Illya, deadpan.

“I hope so.” Napoleon's grin couldn't be hidden by the glass. His grin turned into a laugh as Illya came over and climbed on top of him.

“I'm confiscating that for now,” Illya said as he took Napoleon's glass and set it down on the floor.

He balanced himself on Napoleon's thighs and leaned in to kiss him. Lightning flashed nearby, lighting up the small window above the sink. Illya drew a hand down Napoleon's chest and tasted his lips again. He let his other hand explore Napoleon's inner thigh.

“It seems that a baby carrot has escaped from the vegetables tub,” Illya said as he stared into Napoleon's eyes.

“Illya, I think I'm offended by that comparison,” Napoleon said with as must dignity as he could muster.

Illya moved his hand slightly. “Of course, with careful tending, one could grow a prize winning carrot.”

Napoleon's breath caught in his throat as Illya teased his cock, moving his fingers agonisingly slowly and adjusting his weight so his thigh pressed down against it. He sighed into another of Illya's kisses and ran a hand over Illya's hair, pushing his fingers through it as it curled slightly in the back.

Illya dipped his head a little and started kissing along Napoleon's chest and across to his arm, planting another kiss in the slight 'v' shape in his deltoid muscle. Napoleon brushed the hair from Illya's forehead and kissed it, dropping his head back as Illya slowly worked his way down Napoleon's chest, still keeping his cock in a vice-like grip. After kissing along his abdomen, Illya sat up straight, took his hand away and ground down with his butt. Napoleon could feel Illya's cock through the fabric of his underwear as his own slid into the buttock crack. Frustrated, he moaned softly, quieting as Illya kissed him again and started to rock on top of him.

His own cock hardening, Napoleon grabbed at Illya's underwear, snaking his hand in to try and push it down. Illya slapped at the hand, clenching his thighs tighter around Napoleon.

“Damn you, Illya,” he muttered, having to settle for feeling up Illya's cock, still nestling in captivity.

Illya raised one hip slightly and started pumping Napoleon's cock harder and faster, an innocent smile loitering on his face. “Did you say something?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” muttered Napoleon, pushing his hip up.

“That's for after dinner,” Illya said. “If I think you deserve it.”

“I might just take you unawares. I could get clumsy and trip and fall into you cock first,” Napoleon said, trying not to laugh.

“I might just have to tie you up, after all,” Illya said sternly.

“Not if I tie you up first,” Napoleon retorted.

“Stalemate, it seems. Perhaps I should put you out of your misery, then check dinner.” Illya took Napoleon with both hands and rapidly slid along the shaft, hand upon hand. He watched Napoleon with delight as a reacted, getting closer to the edge. Pre-cum seeped over his fingers and he sped up, anticipating the moment. Napoleon locked eyes with Illya as he came, gasping as he ejaculated on Illya's stomach and thigh. Illya ran a finger through the shiny white fluid and dabbed it on his tongue, watching Napoleon's hungry expression.

“More of that later,” Illya said sweetly as he got up.

 

Napoleon closed his eyes for a moment, then got up to tidy and set the small dinner table. He moved the candles from the fireplace and poured them both more wine.

He groaned as his communicator started beeping, adding, “I guess we should have checked in earlier.” Popping the communicator top, he made his greetings to U.N.C.L.E., “Napoleon Solo here. Good evening.”

Sarah's voice was tight with concern. “Everything okay there, Napoleon?”

“Indeed it is, Sarah. Mission successfully completed. We're just drying off in a fortunately placed forest lodge,” Napoleon replied amiably.

“I'm looking at the latest satellite weather images, and everything's a mess. I hope there's an ark fortunately placed near you, too?” Sarah said with a half-laugh. “The storm's going to last all night, so sit tight. I don't think we'd be able to send a helicopter until the winds die down, at least.”

“Well, we saw a bridge washed out, and looking at this map, there's another river crossing to the next town along, I think we might be in an island of sorts,” Napoleon said as he tracked a finger across Illya's map. “If you could do us a favour and chase up the honeymooners who were supposed to be using this cottage, I'd imagine they're stuck in a town rather than out on the roads.”

“Communications are down all over your area, but I have a fix on you and I can at least find out who owns the place. I'll find out something,” Sarah assured him. “Enjoy the honeymoon, Napoleon,” she added seductively as she signed off.

 

“Honeymoon, she says. The English would call this a _dirty weekend_ ,” Illya muttered as he placed the food on the table.

“You were just sitting on top of me and being very affectionate, Illya. Honeymoon it is,” Napoleon pointed out as he sliced some bread.

Illya weighed the remark up in silence as he ate, finally nodding his agreement as he poured more wine. “A tree could come crashing down upon us at any moment,” he paused as a crash of thunder rattled the windows. “Lightning could have struck as I turned on the water. We could die in an instant, so let us celebrate.”

Napoleon raised his glass. “Ever the romantic, Illya.”

 

With the meal finished, Napoleon cleared the dishes as Illya rustled about in the pantry. A handful of nuts clattered into a tin dish and he balanced it on a rack over the fire. “Hot nuts on the taste buds to finish.”

A broad smile crossed Napoleon's face as he came to join Illya, now lying naked on the rug in front of the fire. He lay down and wrapped an arm over Illya's waist, pulling him closer for a deep kiss. They lay together, breathing each other in, before kissing again. Slowly they twisted around, kissing along each other's torso until they were face to waist. They took each other's cock into their mouths, licking and sucking, edging each other slowly to the edge.

The heat of the fire and their bodies made them dizzy with lust, panting breathlessly as their heads bobbed.

Napoleon paused for breath as a flash of lightning illuminated Illya's face, contorted in ecstasy. They locked eyes and the thunder crashed against Napoleon's ears as he came. He wanted to close his eyes and ride out the feeling, but kept his eyes on his lover and slowly drove Illya to orgasm, another flash lighting up his face as he cried out.

They sank down and crawled around to face each other, the roast chestnuts starting to dance around the pan as they tasted each other in their kisses.

 

Outside, the storm showed no signs of abating, but the crashing thunder, wind and rain was miles away in Napoleon's mind. A simple meal, wine, and the company of a very good lover was all he'd wanted and needed right now.


End file.
